


how long has this been going on

by armario



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Set Post-Game but Pre-Trespasser, it was supposed to be just tethraghast but my ambition got the better of me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-03-18 01:32:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18976036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/armario
Summary: Something strange was going on.Our characters are cursed to feel intense pain when they're physically apart...





	1. Coincidence

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever published an unfinished work (obviously with the intent to finish it!). I hope you enjoy and I actually manage to finish it.
> 
> Title from "How Long" by Ace, which means a lot to me and my family... and I've turned it into a video game fanfiction.

Thom woke up with a headache. It was an insistent, throbbing pain, and he sat up on his bed to shake the sleep away. 

The sun was rising outside, coming in through his window. He groaned; no time to lie in. The recruits would be waiting for him to tell them what to do. 

He put on his clothes and every movement made the pain worse. He cursed, wishing he had time to drop by a healer for a herbal remedy. 

His frustration only got worse as the morning went on. These Fereldan boys were green as could be, barely able to swing a sword. Normally he'd have a little more patience, but the pain had increased, and the recruits had to learn fast. Half the Inquisition army had left for home, believing the threat to be over. Well, Corypheus was gone, but it was one thing after another in Thedas.

He sat on a log and leant his head against the stone wall, closing his eyes for a second. 

"You alright?"

A familiar, brash voice startled him out of his moment's peace. He narrowed his eyes, and then it hit him. 

The pain had gone. In an instant, his headache had completely disappeared.

"I had a really bad headache," he answered, "But now it's gone."

Sera looked surprised. "Oh really? 'Cause I felt all weird earlier as well. Like, my brain was going to explode. And I feel fine now too."

"Maybe there's something going around," he said thoughtfully. But he didn't care too much, he was just glad he felt better. 

He called time on the recruits and they trudged straight to the Herald's Rest. Thom had a mind to join them.

*

"Where's Krem?" Iron Bull boomed. 

"I don't know, boss, I haven't seen him all day."

Bull let out an aggrieved growl, clearly in a bad mood, and stalked away to find the Vint. He couldn't be angry for long when he found Krem curled up on his bedroll, eyes screwed shut. 

"There you are," Bull muttered, softening slightly. "Time of the month?" he asked.

"No, boss," Krem answered, barely audible. He swallowed visibly. It hurt to talk. 

Or... did it? It  _had,_ when he'd yelled at Skinner to leave him the fuck alone, and when someone banged on his door. He couldn't say exactly when the pain had stopped, but it was only obvious now when Bull had walked in. 

He sat up, blinking in confusion. 

"So what, then? If it's some petty headache, that's no excuse, I've had one all fucking day," the Qunari grumbled. 

"Yeah, that's it," Krem answered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "But it's gone now. It was really awful, boss, felt like I was going to be sick, but it's just... gone."

Iron Bull hummed noncommittally, suddenly aware that his own headache had subsided. "Come on, then, we've a dragon to hunt down."

*

Josephine sighed as she walked through the halls back to her quarters. She was dreading the prospect of Leliana becoming Divine. What would she do without her? Sometimes, the spymaster was the only thing keeping her grounded.

She knew she should be happy for her friend being called upon for such an honor, but it only made her feel miserable. If Leliana became Divine, their relationship would change for ever. There would be no easy banter, no late night gossip or deep, heartfelt conversations. No casual intimacy, no satisfaction in running the Inquisition like a well-oiled machine. She was scared she would fall to pieces.

Her head began to hurt. She didn't want Leliana to know how upset she was about it, because it was selfish and silly. But Leliana was the most intelligent, observant woman she knew, and it wouldn't be long before she realized. 

Josephine climbed into bed. The slight pain had developed into a full headache now. She stifled a frustrated sob and tried to go to sleep.

* 

Sharing quarters with Samson-  _again-_ was... strange. It was awkward, uncomfortable, almost unnerving at times, but in general, it was strange. Despite that strangeness (borne of part deja vu, part _this is Corypheus' murdering right-hand),_ they fell into some kind of routine. 

Most days, Cullen got up early to start training. He sparred with Samson in the yard, with increasing success as his strength returned, then the templars came in, and they all began training together. 

At first, many templars had refused to train with, or be within five feet of Samson. Cullen didn't blame them; he had felt the same way. But Samson took it in his stride, never taunted them like Cullen knew he could, just tried to show he had something worth teaching. 

So that's all the red templar did: teach. He showed them how to fight, taught them enemy weaknesses, and when relevant, recounted stories of his own templar days.

Cullen had told them.

_I know it doesn't feel right, but it's the Inquisitor's decision that Samson is here. He was a good man, once. I knew him. And despite everything he's done, all the people's lives he ruined, he's told us everything he knows. I think he made a mistake, a huge, terrible mistake, but one he's trying to right by being here. Let's just give him a chance._

After they trained, they would talk or play cards. It was bitter, sometimes cold and cruel. Cullen found it hard to forgive, or see past the villain. But time went by, and Samson, in his unreadable, bitter, gruff way, was trying. He rarely complained about being unable to leave Cullen's side, only a few barely-discernible bitter jokes now and then. It was as though he had accepted his punishment and was doing everything he could to bear it gracefully. 

Whenever Cullen had official business away from Skyhold to attend to, Samson was put into the dungeon. That seemed a little harsh, but as Leliana said, he couldn't just roam around freely. Someone might murder him; he might murder someone.

Today, Cullen left Samson sparring with the recruits. Leliana had called a meeting about the growing tension in Ferelden about the Inquisition. As he walked across the courtyard, up the steps and through to the war council, a strange and sudden pain started behind his eyes.  _Just the right time for a migraine,_ he thought grimly. 

When he entered the room, he was surprised to see that only Leliana was there. 

"Where's Josephine?" he asked. 

Upon doing so, the lady in question entered, looking disheveled. She had one hand pressed to her eye, and for her standard, her hair was a mess.

"Josie?" Leliana asked, alarmed. No one had ever seen Josephine in this state. Cullen smiled to himself- she didn't even look that messy, but she was normally so perfectly dressed and styled that just a hair out of place was unthinkable.

"I'm so sorry," Josephine said, sounding exhausted. She had dark circles under her eyes. "I overslept; I could barely sleep last night, and I have this pounding headache- _oh."_

"What is it?"

"Well, it's gone."

"The headache. I've had it all night, it was awful. I couldn't sleep for this terrible pain, and all of a sudden, it has disappeared."

"How strange," Leliana remarked, raising her eyebrows. 

"I have one too," Cullen said. He hated complaining normally, but it seemed odd that they'd both had these terrible headaches out of nowhere. 

"You still have it?"

"Yes," he replied. "It started only a few minutes ago. I suppose it's just a headache, though."

"If you don't feel well, we don't have to-"

"No, no, I'll be fine. Carry on."

*

"Do you have any ginger, Sparkler?" Varric groaned, almost falling off his horse.

"No, why would I-"

"You're all magic and stuff, you might use it for potions. Like the one you used on Elijah to get him to like you."

"That was no potion, Varric. It was my wit, charm, and stunning good looks, all things in which you are lacking."

They grinned at each other. 

"I just have this awful headache," the dwarf said. "Awful. Like none I've ever had before."

Dorian shrugged. "Well, when they get back, I'll take first watch, how's that?"

"Your kindness never ceases to astound me."

They reached the camp, tied up the horses, and started a fire. At this point, Varric's head was pounding, he couldn't even speak. Dorian was merciful and kept quiet as they started cooking the meagre nug-meat on the fire. 

Around an hour later, they heard hoofbeats in the distance. Elijah and Cassandra had gone to scout the area for Freemen (a last ditch attempt to perhaps find Solas with them, a concept Dorian found quite amusing) before they set up camp. 

"Thank the Maker," Varric sighed, crawling over to his tent hopefully to pass out and shake off this awful migraine. 

Their companions arrived. No sign of Solas. 

"Did you find anything?" Dorian asked. The Inquisitor sat beside him and kissed his cheek.

"No," Cassandra sighed. "Not even any Freemen. Where's Varric?"

"He's been complaining  _all night_ of this terrible migraine, to the point where he's just... gone to bed! Rude, I know. At least _I_ waited up for you," Dorian smirked. Then he went serious. "No, in all seriousness, he seems very unwell."

The two of them looked concerned.

"Uh... guys?" 

Varric had poked his head out of his tent. "I honestly feel fine now."

Dorian bristled. "All that fuss for nothing? And to think, I actually felt bad for you?!"

The dwarf grinned sheepishly. "I don't know, it just disappeared." He came back to sit beside Cassandra. 

"I'm glad you're feeling better," the Inquisitor said in his deep voice. "We have a long journey tomorrow if we want to be back at Skyhold before the next dawn."

*

When Cullen returned to his quarters, it was getting dark. As he walked, he pondered what they had spoken of, his head hurting all the way. 

Ferelden was worse than he thought. The people there were fearful of the Inquisition's power, they always had been, and now to them, they no longer had need of it. And even though the Inquisitor was the kindest, gentlest soul he'd ever met, a 9-foot-tall Qunari was  _always_ intimidating. Cullen could see a million ways in which the Inquisition's work wasn't over, but it was about winning them over, not him. And from what Leliana and Josephine had told him, they weren't hopeful. 

When the Inquisitor returned with Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian, a meeting would be called with some of the major players. They would have to discuss the possibility of the Inquisition's disbandment. 

He climbed the steps up to his tower and opened the door. Samson was probably asleep. 

"Cullen?"

Not, then. "Yes, it's me," he answered, then stopped dead in his tracks. 

His headache was gone.

"You alright, there?"

He shook his head, and lit a candle so he could see Samson better. He pulled up a chair next to the templar's makeshift bed. 

"Have you, by any chance, had a headache today?" he asked on a whim. He expected a confused negative, but no. 

Samson blinked. "I have."

Cullen inwardly groaned. Something strange was going on. He began to explain.

*


	2. Not a Coincidence

They arrived back to Skyhold at dawn as expected. Having been away for a couple of weeks, they were eager to make time and get home.  
 They were met by soldiers at the gates and a little out of the ordinarily, Cullen was with them.

 "Not used to such a warm welcome," Elijah smiled.

 Cullen grimaced and Elijah's face fell. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

 "I think so," the Commander answered. He backtracked. "It's not too serious. Well."

 They dismounted their horses which were led to the stables and followed Cullen, presumably to the war room.

 "Have any of you experienced a headache recently?"

Cassandra made a face, a kind of, _who hasn't?_ expression.

 "Yes!" Varric exclaimed. "Sorry, I just-"

 "It came out of nowhere, then disappeared suddenly?"

 "Exactly!"

 "You're not the only one," Cullen sighed.

 They stopped by the door.

 "Do you want us to go in as well?" Cassandra asked.

 "You'll all need to be here," Cullen confirmed.

When they went inside, it was shock to see Sera, Blackwall, Bull, Krem, Leliana and Josephine there too.

 "Welcome to the party," Krem said. He and Bull were the only ones apparently unfazed by the situation. Josephine was fretting, Leliana trying to calm her down.

 "But what if it doesn't go away?!"

 "We'll find a way."

 Blackwall wasn't easy to read, but he seemed uncomfortable. Sera was as enraged as a varghest.  
"I don't bloody need this!" she shouted. Blackwall shushed her and she mimicked him angrily.

 Josephine sighed. "Welcome back, Inquisitor. While you were away, some of us have been experiencing... quite a strange problem. Extremely painful headaches out of nowhere."

 The Inquisitor frowned. He had to admit, it was a coincidence that everyone had began experiencing them at the same time.

 "But they've stopped now, right?" he asked.

 "Yes," most of them chipped in, just as Cullen said, "No."  
He glanced around, worried. _Why hadn't his stopped? Would he have to put up with it forever? But it had stopped last night..._

 "And all of you have experienced it?"

 "I haven't," Cassandra said.

 "Nor me," Dorian answered. 

 "And nor me..." Elijah concluded, intrigued.

Leliana shook her head. "People told me theirs started yesterday, but mine only started today. It could have different... incubation times."

 "Eugh!" Sera cried. "I don't want to be incubated." She crossed her arms furiously.

 "Well, we just need to do some experimenting," Dorian began. Typically, he sounded fascinated. "To work out what is triggering the headaches."

 "What do you suggest?"

 *

They spent hours conducting experiments to figure it out. Word was, they weren't the only ones- mages, templars, soldiers, Dalish- many people in Skyhold had also been affected. Everyone claimed the same thing: their head started to hurt, then at seemingly random times, it would stop, then start again. 

 They checked the food first. That wasn't it. Vivienne got excited and did some detection magic, but couldn't find anything either. 

 Cullen was treated as a kind of lab rat, as at the time, he was the only person experiencing a headache. They gave him medicine, Dorian tried to give him a massage _(No!),_ a healer looked over him, and Leliana sent ravens to other Inquisiton camps asking if it was affecting people outside of Skyhold. 

 They were at a loss. 

 Sat at one of the long tables in the main hall. Cassandra and Josephine were deep in reasonable, thoughtful discussion. Varric, Sera, Dorian and Blackwall were having a competition to see who could make up the stupidest suggestion. 

 "What if it's triggered by needing to piss?"

 "And every time we piss it stops?"

 "No, no, no. It's an urge to ride a horse."

 "But I haven't ridden a horse recently and mine's stopped."

 "Only virgins get the headaches."

 "What?!"

 Then Sera had in idea. "Instead of asking what's causing them, let's look at what's making them go away. Or, like, why  _his_ isn't gone, but mine is, you know?"

 Leliana had been thinking it over, quiet, but now she joined in. "Ah. So what is it that we have, or we are doing, that Cullen does not, or is not."

 If Cullen's head had been hurting before, now it was agony. He lifted his head from the table and rubbed his eyes. "It's getting worse. I can't sit here any more."

 Leliana nodded, and he left for his quarters, feeling nauseous.

"I suggest we all retire for the night and make note of at which point, if it does at all, the headache resurfaces," Josephine addressed them all.  

 *

"Don't have it now, don't have it now, don't have it now..." Sera sang. She was in a better mood now the headache had gone and Thom felt the same. He was hoping it was just a freak coincidence, and it wouldn't happen again. 

"G'night, Sera," he grunted as they parted ways at the courtyard. 

 "Don't have it now, don't have it now," she continued, giving him an impatient wave as she skipped away. Then she stopped. 

"Fuck!" she shouted, so the whole of Skyhold could hear. Now the pain spread, not just in her head, but in her teeth, down her back, and in her arms. 

She remembered what Josephine had said, to make a note of how it came on. She glanced around. Right, so she was standing in the courtyard, it was dusk... she took a step back in case there was a certain Pain Area and she'd just stepped into it.

Nothing happened. The pain was still there. She stamped her foot in frustration.

*

Krem sipped his pint. It was just him and Bull today, Skinner and Stitches had been in bed all day with those stupid headaches. 

"How's your head?" he asked, grinning. 

"Fine. You?"

"The same. It's so strange, isn't it? I have no idea why it's stopped, and no idea how it'll start again, but I know it will."

"You think?"

Krem nodded. He sensed this mess was going to end up as a long story he'd tell in a dirty Marcher tavern one day. It was only going to get weirder.

"The Chargers can't fight for shit like this," Bull rumbled. Krem realized he was worried. 

"It'll pass, boss. We'll look back on it and laugh," he replied, trying to be reassuring. 

Bull nodded slowly, stroking his chin. "I hope so."

*

Elijah sighed. "Come to bed, Dorian."

He knew Dorian was leaving soon. He wanted to spend as much _quality time_ with him as possible, but the Tevinter was intent on solving the mystery, as always. Elijah couldn't find it in himself to be angry, it was something that had endeared him to Dorian. He was always hungry for knowledge, ever curious, and he never gave up.

"I'm sorry, amatus. I just know I've read something somewhere-"

"Don't you think it's kind of odd that we don't have the headaches?"

"Well, yes, actually," Dorian said, pausing through his riffling of pages. "But it's not just you and I."

"I guess I'm just used to being in the middle of any trouble," the Qunari grinned. He stretched back out and stared up at the ceiling. He didn't want to think about Dorian leaving, so he thought about the headaches instead. He just found it really, really odd that Cullen had had one when no one else did. He thought that was an important clue, but he had no idea, in truth, what was going on. 

*

"Varric!"

"...Seeker?"

Varric was tucked up in bed with all the candles out and here was Cassandra banging on his door at Maker knows what hour. The headache was no longer just that; now the pain had spread through his whole body.

"I've got it now," she said through the door. "A headache."

"Me too," he said pointedly. Well, he felt kind of bad for her, but he also lacked the ability to talk without his head buzzing like a jar of bees. 

"We'll talk tomorrow, then," she said. He couldn't hear her so clearly through the wooden door, but she sounded disappointed. 

That wasn't fair of him. He should have invited her in to talk, but he honestly didn't think he'd ever felt more ill in his life. He couldn't even summon the strength to call her back. 

He'd love to get his hands on the bastard whose fault it was- there was no way this was an accident.

*

Cullen didn't care that it wasn't even dark when he stumbled back to his quarters. He had this insane hope that the pain would go away when he got there, and then when he was proved right, he just kind of... fell to his knees in relief. 

"The fuck are you doing?"

Oh, right. This wasn't just  _his_ quarters any more. He dragged himself off the floor and sat on the edge of his desk. 

"Long day," he said. 

Samson raised an eyebrow.

"The headache came back, as soon as I left here this morning. It's got worse and worse, all day. Until now."

Samson frowned. "So it stops when you're in your quarters."

"I think it must do. But it's not the same for everyone else; Blackwall told me it started when he was in his quarters. The barn, I mean."

Samson's mouth twitched. 

Cullen sighed. There was no greater relief than to feel the headache subside, but he felt exhausted. He bade Samson goodnight and climbed the ladder, falling into bed and into a deep sleep.

Hours later, he woke to a searing pain throughout his whole body. He felt like crying. How had this happened? He thought the pain was supposed to stop when he was in his quarters. 

He pushed himself out of bed with the intention of climbing down to get a glass of water, but he was unsteady of his feet and thought better of it. The hole in the roof opened to a starry night sky; he hoped he hadn't woken Samson. 

Then he glanced down.

Samson was gone. That wasn't too unusual; the templar had long ago asked permission if he could go for a walk across the battlements when he couldn't sleep.

The problem was this: Samson had gone, and the pain had come back. That implied something Cullen didn't want to think about. But he had to; it was the key to figuring out how and why this was all happening. 

He decided he'd wait up for Samson and explain what he thought was going on. That they were linked, and if they strayed physically away from each other, the pain would start. And then tomorrow, he'd test the theory on everyone else.

But he couldn't help but suspect there was more to it than that. Like, why were he and  _Samson_ connected? And who was everyone else connected to?

*


	3. Whatever's Linking Us

  The next morning, Cullen went to the war room, as they'd all planned to to share their findings.  
 He wanted to bring Samson with him to ease the pain, but the templar advised against it.

 "You're not going to like whatever's linking us," he'd said grimly. "And neither will they."

 Cullen wanted to work it all out, and solve it, by himself. Then they'd all be saved the embarrassment.

 The pain had got worse too. It engulfed his entire body, getting more intense the longer and farther he was apart from Samson.

 No one was in the war room.

 He looked around, wondering what to do, whether he should go and look for everyone. Then the door opened.

 "Sorry, Commander," Josephine said hurriedly. "I was discussing the matter with Leliana. The others haven't arrived?"

 "I don't suppose many of them will," Leliana said. "The pain was awful when I woke. They probably can't find the strength to drag themselves out of bed."

 "But it's fine now?" Cullen asked, more sharply than he'd intended.

They both nodded. 

 So that had to mean Leliana and Josephine were connected. He began to think over who was connected to whom in his mind, trying to work out what the reason could be. He and Samson, Leliana and Josephine... who else?

 Cassandra knocked and then entered. She looked extremely tired, but as always, she tried not to show it. 

 "I am sorry I am so late. I began experiencing the pain last night. Far worse than a headache, though," she explained. "It is still there, but seems to be fading."

 Leliana shook her head. "This is much worse than I first thought," she began. "This affliction could cripple us. The top leaders and much of the troops struck down by a mysterious ailment? It may have malicious origins."

 "At least the Inquisitor remains unaffected," Josephine pointed out.

 "But for how long?"

Cullen felt a little guilty. There was just some nagging feeling holding him back from sharing his suspicions until he'd worked everything out. But was it really fair to allow everyone to suffer in the meantime?

 He sighed. No, it wasn't.

"I think I know what makes the pain stop temporarily," he started. Their gazes fell sharply onto him.

He took a deep breath. "I need everyone out in the grounds."

*

 "This is stupid," Sera muttered. She folded her arms. Her whole body hurt.

Blackwall waved at her, so she gave him the finger.

 "All right," Cullen said. "I'm going to start with Leliana and Josephine. Go to opposite ends of the field, and stand still. Signal if the pain starts coming back."

 They obeyed, a little unsure. When they were around twenty metres away from each other, Josephine turned, looking ill. "It's started!" she called. Leliana nodded in agreement. 

 "Stop, and walk back towards each other. Let me know when the pain is gone."

They slowly approached each other. They didn't have to say anything; Cullen could see from the shock on their faces that he was right. The pain had gone because they were close together. And his continued to burn through his body because Samson was in the barracks.

 "So you see," he said quietly.

 "And this is the case for everyone? Everyone is connected to another in some way?" Leliana asked calmly. 

 He nodded. 

 "But who are you connected to?" Josephine frowned.

He stared at her. He knew it wouldn't take long for them to put two and two together, but he couldn't quite force the words out. Instead, he turned away. It would now be a kind of trial and error, to see whose partner was whose. Although, there was bound to be a pattern. 

 Krem and Bull were a safe bet, they were checked off the list. Krem just shrugged awkwardly,  _what can you do?,_ and Bull said, "There are worse people to be stuck with, I guess."

There was no such luck with the others. Cullen tried Cassandra with Blackwall, to no avail, then switched him for Varric.  
As soon as the penny dropped, Cassandra stormed away. Even Varric, who was normally reasonable about these kind of things, cursed under his breath.  
"This is just my luck," he sighed.

That left Sera and Blackwall. The latter looked resigned to his fate, and Sera was strangely quiet. She had a stormy expression that made Cullen falter when he called her over.  
"You can test it in your own time," he amended hastily.

Leliana gathered them around. "Now we know how to stop the pain, albeit... conditionally, we can focus on getting rid of it. I'll speak to our resident mages as soon as possible for ideas on where to start."

 At varying degrees of spirits, the group dispersed, in pairs, with the notable exception of Varric.

 "Not you, Cullen."  
He closes his eyes briefly, then turned back to Leliana.

"Who is it?" she asked. Her eyes were as sharp as one of her ravens'.

 He looked away. He wasn't a coward, but he didn't want her to make assumptions about...  
"Samson," he said, eyes fixed resolutely elsewhere.

 To her credit, she was unsurprised. "Be careful," she told him, and left him alone.  
  
*

Dorian listened intently to Cassandra's explanation. He didn't laugh once, and Elijah felt proud.

"Of all the people!" she raged. Elijah felt his lips twitch, then his face fell when she winced.

 Cassandra was in great pain.

 "I think every time we separate, the pain gets worse," she whispered.

 "So go and find Varric," Elijah said.

She gave him a withering look. "He'll never let me hear the end of it. I don't want to... to be that close to someone."

 "But the range isn't actually that close."

 "It's close enough!"

Dorian cleared his throat. "My dear, have you considered the fact that Varric is in equal pain as you right now?"  
  
She averted his gaze.

"It must be hard, but at least there's a way to make it stop hurting," Elijah said gently. That was his way, even though it was the last thing you'd expect from a Qunari warrior.  
  
Cassandra sighed. "I don't want him to be in pain, I just wish..." she trailed off, then set her jaw. "Fine. I will find him. But please find a cure as soon as you can."

"We will, I promise," Elijah nodded, just as Dorian said "Oh, I don't know, it could take weeks-"

*

"Sera, are you alright?"

"Oh, piss off."

Thom sighed. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do. But we've got to stick together for now."

She huffed, then put her face in her hands. "I hate this. I just want everything to be normal again."

He felt a twinge of sympathy. "Well, don't worry. It won't be for long; Vivienne and Dorian will compete so hard to be the best mage, we'll have a cure in no time."

The elf raised her head to look at him. "You think it's magic, then?"

"What else could it be?" he asked, alarmed. He'd assumed it could only be some kind of mischievous spell. Well, he hoped it was mischevious- clearly designed to bring people together- although he knew whatever divine or malicious force that had placed he and Sera together was really barking up the wrong tree- because it had the potential to be very, very dangerous. 

Being close to Sera was like sinking into silk sheets after sleeping on cold ground for weeks. The pain didn't just go away when he was near her; it was replaced by a steady, warm cocoon of companionable comfort. But then there was the problem of when they weren't together- the pain was getting worse. The simple headache days were long gone; now it was a sharp, searing sensation that lanced through his whole body. It was enough to make tears spring to his eyes.

 "We'll have to share quarters," Thom said. 

 "I know," Sera grumbled. "You better not snore like last time! I'll kill you!"

He laughed, and liked the way she didn't hide her small smile.

 "I'm glad it was you, Sera," he told her honestly. "You're a good friend, I don't mind it so much."

 It was true. Since they'd met, he and the rogue had just clicked with each other. They often sought each other out for a chat or a grumble about one of the others, and had each other's back during scouting operations. He really trusted her, and normally it was hard for him to let anyone in, but Sera... she understood.

 "No need to get all sappy. You've spilled sap everywhere, clean it up."

But he could tell she grudgingly felt the same.

 *

 "You've never heard of anything like this?" Josephine repeated, despairing. 

Leliana smiled. 

 "No," Dorian shrugged.

 "It doesn't matter," Vivienne cut in smoothly. "I'll still be able to fix this mess."

 "You, darling? I don't think so. Your skills are-"

 "-A thousand times more refined than yours?"

 "-abysmal and utterly unequipped to tackle such complex magic."

 "While you fight, we are still all in intense pain," Leliana said pointedly. They had the grace to look a little embarrassed. 

  "We'll work as hard as we can," Dorian promised, with a small bow.

They left the two mages in the library, poring over spellbooks. 

 "Do you think they'll manage it?" Josephine asked.

 "Yes," Leliana answered confidently. "Or if not those two, someone else. We must be reasonable about this. All we have to do is stay close, which we do anyway, until we find a solution. The Inquisition will run as smoothly as it always has."

 It rarely ran smoothly, but that was beside the point. 

Josephine wanted to tell Leliana she was very glad that they were connected, instead of her and, say, Iron Bull, or Sera, perhaps. But since Leliana had explained her intention of becoming Divine, she had felt a distance growing between them. Their loving friendship had become something more aloof and respectful. She hated it, but she thought it was for the best. 

 "Something's on your mind," Leliana said. She opened the door to her room and ushered Josephine inside, who sat down. She'd been here so many times, talking for hours with her closest friend about everything, from trivial gossip to decisions that threatened the fate of Thedas. Yet now, it felt disrespectful to have such intimacy. 

 She knew Leliana would be really upset to hear that, though. 

 "I'm really worried about what's going on," Josephine told her. "I think it is only going to get worse. But..." 

 She trailed off.

Leliana perched on the bed next her, looking into her eyes. She felt she couldn't hide anything from the spymaster, not truly, and nor did she want to.

 "All this means we get to spend more time together," she said softly. "At least there is that." 

 Leliana smiled warmly. "Oh, Josie." She took Josephine's hands in hers. All of her worries seemed to disappear with that gentle touch. 

 "I understand it is your duty to become Divine," Josephine said. "But I don't want to lose you."

 "My dearest, I will not be bound by the old customs. I will serve as best I can, but I will not leave my friends behind. You least of all," Leliana said. She brushed a tear away from Josephine's cheek. 

 They curled up together and Josephine for once had a restful, dreamless sleep.

 *

Cullen hadn't minded the pain so much, knowing he was working towards fixing it, but now he looked forward to its abatement and a good night's sleep. He walked over the battlements, stopping for a second to take in the night's sky. He hoped Samson was waiting up instead of doing the same thing.

 He felt a greater air of caution was necessary around the Templar now, because they had to maintain a physical closeness. But how else could that affect their relationship? He'd never felt so conflicted about a person before.

 Logic overwhelmingly told him that he should keep away, act civil, but extend no kind of friendship to such a twisted, cruel person, but his heart told him that wasn't the whole story. And guilt, overwhelming guilt, told him that he could have easily ended up like Samson- broken, a deep-seated resentment towards the Chantry's treatment of templars, a crooked moral compass, and a powerful being like Corypheus telling him he could make it all better?

 He pushed open the door to his tower and gently shut it behind him. A quick glance told him Samson wasn't back yet. He tried not to assume the worst, and instead sat down at his desk. He didn't feel up to addressing the mountains of letters piled up there, because his body was aching.

 Cullen sighed. He rested his head on the desk and let himself drift off for a few minutes.

 A strange scratching sound woke him up.

 He abruptly realized that the pain had stopped, and the noise was coming from the door.

 He reached for his sword, yet almost knew already it was no stranger at the door.

 Upon opening it, Samson practically fell into him, and he dropped his sword to catch him.

 "Maker's breath, what happened?!" Cullen cried. He helped Samson to his bedroll on the floor and held him at arm's length by his shoulders.

 The templar's face was battered. One eye was black and screwed shut, his nose was streaming blood into his mouth and down his chin. His lip was split and he was missing a tooth. He was cradling his hand at an awkward angle; several broken fingers.

 Carefully, Cullen lifted the hem of his shirt to confirm his skin was purple with bruises. He was wheezing, probably a broken rib. And Maker knows what other injuries he'd sustained.

 Cullen took a deep breath. "What happened?" he asked again.

 Samson tried to reply but his mouth was full of blood and dirt. He coughed and tried again. "You know what happened."

 Cullen struggled to formulate a response. He did know. His stomach was churning, he wanted to be sick. Because he knew how this had happened; knew which soldiers didn't adjust to Samson's presence to the point where they just couldn't hide the unbridled hatred in their eyes. Cullen thought some of that might be reflected in his right now. How anyone could do this was beyond him.

 And then he cursed Samson, because if there was anyone who deserved this, it was him.

 "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking away.

 He should have stopped this. He should have known something was wrong, or never left Samson alone with recruits that hated his very existence. Samson started to laugh, but it sounded scary, because the air whistled through the gap in his teeth and he started to choke.

 Cullen patted his back. "What can I do?" he asked, frustrated, directing it more to the Maker than the other man.

 "Stay," Samson croaked. He coughed. "Like old times, come on."

 Cullen closed his eyes. He pulled Samson closer, regretting how it made the Templar wince. Being so close, not only was the pain gone, it was replaced by a soft, comforting feeling. A this-feels-right kind of feeling. He wondered if Samson could feel it too through the agony of broken bones and bruised skin.

 "I have to get a healer," Cullen mumbled into his shoulder.

 "I've had worse," Samson answered. "It's... tolerable, with you here like this."

 Cullen drew back to look him in the eyes. He stared back, red-rimmed and glassy, but honest and resolute. In that moment, Cullen knew that this pain, and also that of the bond, was nothing compared to that which he'd already experienced. 

 "All right," Cullen murmured, feeling terrible. He lay down and gently put an arm round Samson's waist, whose shallow, labored breathing took a long time to even out.

 He didn't sleep. He thought about how he was going to deal with the bastards that did it, then, how he was going to stop it from happening again.


	4. Good Luck

It had taken a while for Dorian to find some time alone. Normally, he appreciated how the Inquisitor would clear his schedule so they could aways spend some time together, but at the moment, it was somewhat inconvenient.

 "Vivienne!" he hissed, catching her by the arm.

 "Altus," she said coolly, tugging him further into the alcove of the library so they could talk without being overheard.

 "Have you got any further with the curse?" he asked in hushed whispers.

 "To be frank, no," she answered shortly. She sounded frustrated. "I know the solution is staring me in the face, but I just can't see it."

 Dorian was surprised she would admit that. He felt a little guilty knowing that none of this would have happened if he hadn't enlisted her help in the first place.

 He leaned forward. "Well, maybe it's time to do what we planned. To ask Cole."

 Vivienne shook her head vehemently. "Certainly not. It's too risky. If the Inquisitor finds out what I've done, he has every right to punish me for endangering the Inquisition."

 Dorian frowned. "Of course not, I would obviously have to explain-"

 She laughed. "No harm would come to you, my darling, not so long as he was in charge. But _I_ don't have the same security. I'd rather just solve this by myself."

 He sighed. "I know, but the effects are getting worse. The pain is very severe now and the distance required for it to start seems to be getting shorter. When everyone has to work in pairs, tensions are high, decision-making is impaired..."

 Vivienne regarded him for a few seconds, her expression giving nothing away. Then she gave in. "Fine. Give me two more days, and then we'll speak to Cole."

 Dorian smiled. "Excellent. Good luck." Then he looked apologetic. "I- ah, I'm sorry about all this."

 "Yes, well," she rolled her eyes, "Let it be a lesson learned not to mess around with people's emotions, magically or otherwise."

 *

 Elijah was arranging the Inquisition's last ditch attempts to find Solas.  
Part of him felt as though they should let the elf go; it was his choice to leave, perhaps he felt as though his work was done and he didn't want to outstay his welcome.

 But the warrior's gut told him that this wasn't the case- there was something more to Solas' sudden disappearance. And to tell the truth, it had hurt a little. He'd always looked up to Solas, even though they often disagreed, and this seemed like the ultimate dismissal.

 If this search wasn't successful, he'd have no more excuses to delay the summit. They'd have to meet with the Ferelden and Orlesian officials to determine the fate of the Inquisition.

 He planned to send Cullen and his forces to the Deep Roads, while Bull commandeered a small unit to investigate the Arbor Wilds. After that, they'd just have to give up.

 There was also the matter of the strange bond many Inquisition members were feeling. It was highly inconvenient, but not completely debilitating. That being said, tensions were high as people wondered how this could have happened.  
 He reached the war room where he had called for Cullen to meet, so they could discuss the deployment.

 When he opened the door, Cullen was waiting, but so was Samson. And Samson looked as though he had really been through the wars.

 "What- what happened?" Elijah asked urgently, concerned. He glanced at Cullen, who looked furious.  
Samson's bloody, bruised lips twisted into a small, rueful smile.

 "Our soldiers," Cullen almost spat, emphasis on the our, "decided to beat an unarmed man within an inch of his life last night."

  _Ah._ Elijah was well aware of the general sense of unease around Samson amongst the recruits; he was personally held accountable by many. Now, he realized it was worse than he thought.  
 "Have you been to see a healer?" he asked. "Obviously this is unacceptable."

 "We went this morning," Cullen replied shortly. "What do you suggest I do?"

 Elijah took a moment to ponder the question, watching the recruits in the courtyard from out of the window.  
"I'll talk to them," he decided. "I don't think it's safe for you at the moment, Samson. Perhaps I made a mistake in keeping you here. You'll join the expedition to the Emerald Graves. I would have preferred you with me, Cullen, but I realise you have to stick together," he finished the sentence with a wry smile.

 Cullen looked immeasurably relieved. "Thank you, Inquisitor."

 Elijah inclined his head. He decided to send the Inquisition army with Blackwall, Sera, Cole, Krem, and Bull, and have Cullen, Samson, Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian travel to the Arbor Wilds alone. He himself would be traveling with Leliana and Josephine to the conference with Orlesian and Ferelden officials, where the Inquisition's fate would be decided. It was irritating, having to keep everyone so close together with the magical curse still at large, but he was counting on Dorian to find a solution soon.

 He sent one of Leliana's ravens to the leaders of each group, detailing their mission. After that was out of the way, he sighed, knowing he had to address the issue around Samson. He called the recruits into the yard, and from the looks on their faces, they probably knew what he had summoned them for.

 "I thought better of you," he started. "Of us."

 *

"Did _you_ get a raven?" Cassandra asked curiously, still trying to decipher the letter. The Inquisitor's handwriting was utterly dire. 

"No," Varric answered, crossing his legs on the bed. "Why? What's it say?"

"We are going to the Arbor Wilds in a couple of days," she replied, then smirked. "Clearly I am the designated leader, then."

"Whoah," Varric said, mock-offended. He slid off the bed and snatched the letter from her. "Oh, Maker's balls, I can't read that. Who else is coming?"

 "Dorian, Cullen... Samson," she said, a little surprised.

 Varric raised an eyebrow, Cassandra shrugged. She put the letter down and sat on her bed. They had had to move out of their quarters since the curse began; the pain was too much to sleep apart from each other. Grimly, she had noticed it was getting more intense, and was triggered by an even shorter distance. She was praying that someone would fix it by the time they had to handcuff themselves to each other, a sentiment Varric found endlessly amusing.

 She began to undress ready for bed, when she felt a pair of eyes on her. "Turn around," she snapped primly, not even having to look.

 Varric didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed.

She tucked herself snugly under the covers; the nights were getting colder. Varric liked complaining about how these twin beds were shitty, too cold, too uncomfortable, and not big enough. Cassandra had said, "You're a dwarf," and he made a rude gesture. 

She blew out the candle beside her bed.

 "Do you think we have any chance of finding Chuckles?" Varric said into the dark.

 "I honestly don't know," she replied honestly. She turned over to try and look at him, but it was hard to see his expression with the only light coming from the moon. "What do you think?"

 "No," he said grimly. "I just have this feeling."

Not so long ago, Cassandra would have snorted. The last thing she would ever have faith in was _Varric Tethras' feelings,_ but now, she was filled with a familiar sense of foreboding. Maybe the curse connected them in other ways, telepathically perhaps. 

 "I'll think of an animal, and you tell me what it is," she suggested suddenly, concentrating hard on a raging varghest.

 Varric thought long and hard. "An albino nug with only three legs."

 She threw her pillow at him.

 *

 Krem was practically running back into Bull's quarters after he'd gone to fetch his axe back from the smith. The pain shot throughout his body when he was just a few meters away from Bull now, and it was frustrating.

 "You ready to head out tomorrow?" Bull asked. 

 "'Course," he answered tiredly, grabbing himself a mug of ale. 

 "What's wrong?"

 "Just... you know. This curse. It's inconvenient."

 "No shit. We'll be alright, though. Dorian was practically pissing himself with excitement when he got wind of it," Bull grinned, showing teeth. "He'll figure it out."

 Krem knew he was right, but he still felt a bit disheartened. He liked being close to Bull, but it was feeling forced. Bull would sigh and curse every time he realised Krem had to tag along with him all the time, and Krem was getting to the point where he would endure the pain so their friendship wouldn't become strained.

 Truly, Krem sometimes feels like Bull is all he has. He never wants to admit it, to seem that weak and girly, but it's always been like this since they met.

 "You're thinking too loudly," the Qunari rumbled. Krem huffed. "You want to cuddle, Vint?"

 He barked a laugh, then realised Bull was completely serious and generally unhinged like that, as well as uncannily aware of his moods. 

 "Yeah," Krem swallowed. "Yeah, all right."

So he let strong Qunari arms wrap around him, not for the first time, and told himself they'd be fine, that this stupid curse wouldn't fuck up what they have. Leaving for the Deep Roads, albeit with the entire Inquisition army behind them, should have been a nice change of scenery and sleeping together in the same tent would help him to pretend everything is normal. 

 He drifts into sleep, remembering similar times when it was just the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty shit filler chapter but it had to be done. Next lot will follow one pairing per chapter.


End file.
